


The Bus Stop

by MissIzzy



Series: Alternate Season 6 [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 08:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21370897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/MissIzzy
Summary: After the events of "Barge of the Dead," events take another turn, and take Voyager out of the kind of space they've known.
Relationships: Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: Alternate Season 6 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540639
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Bus Stop

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first episode of an alternate timeline for Voyager, diverging from immediately after "Barge of the Dead."

Tom Paris had gotten to the point in his relationship with B’Elanna Torres where he could usually tell what she wanted without her saying it, at least on the everyday things, though sometimes he had a nagging feeling he was missing something in what she wanted from him overall. For instance, whenever it was she who planned a date, he knew from the kind of date what she wanted from it. If it was on the holodeck, she wanted to turn her brain off completely and forget about the week she’d been having. If it was just dinner in their quarters, but with her saying, “something special” she wanted romance. He wasn’t sure if she consciously realized that, but every time in the past year he’d formed that conclusion, and every time he’d been right.

If, however, it was again dinner with their quarters, but her saying “nothing special,” that meant she wanted to have a serious discussion with him, the kind that men on instinct preferred to avoid.

Which was why when he came home that evening, from an unremarkable shift which had left him plenty of time to dwell uneasily on the date to come, he was hard put to appear nonchalant. But this just might be painful enough without getting her nervous beforehand, or worse, angry, so he forced himself to smile when he saw the salad and steaks she’d replicated. “I got the dressing you wanted,” she said. “Though there’s no rations left over for dessert, unless we eat it tomorrow.”

“That could work,” he shrugged. If only she’d said “something special,” he thought. Then there could be seduction, which was followed obviously by sex, and then they could nap until 2400, and then have dessert. But no. By 2400 he didn’t know what state they’d be in.

_It’ll probably be over by then,_ he reminded himself. _We’ll say whatever we have to say, and it’ll be over with, and maybe it won’t be something that will leave us that upset when we’re done with it._ But it was hard to think past a conversation when he didn’t even know what the subject of it was going to be. Especially when his having no idea was a little more unusual these days; usually he had a sneaking suspicion, but that night, nothing.

“Then let’s eat while it’s still hot,” she said, and she dug in. She didn’t look at him as she did, which made him aware she wasn’t looking forward to this conversation either. Which meant it had to be something really important. He was simultaneous more nervous than before, and vaguely relieved. Whatever it was, they just might be in it together. He hoped, because if it was a problem she had with him, he was in really deep trouble, especially since he’d missed it completely.

He ought to let her take the silence to prepare herself, and wait it out, and let his own inner procrastinator decide she could have all the time she needed. But as he watched the meat disappear from her plate, while most of his stayed where it was, because being nervous made her eat and him not eat, he quickly started to feel that the silence was far worse than enduring whatever it was she had to say.

So he tried to chew, and tried even harder to swallow, and listen to her anxious breathing in between bites, and looked up at the ceiling, and out at the streaking starfield, and half-hoped some sort of emergency would call them to their stations, even though in the long run that would leave him more time to dread what was coming up. Finally, when she put down her fork, paused, and then picked it up again, he snapped, “What do you want?”

“What do _you_ want?” burst from her, and their eyes met. She didn’t look that frightened, more just confused.

Which ought to be his gig right now. “What do you mean what do I want?”

“From me. I mean, what...I’m going about this the wrong way.”

“Okay.” He didn’t understand the situation any more than he had when he’d sat down at the table.

“I...” She was having trouble, and he wanted very badly to help, but was at a loss for how. “I talked with Chakotay. After the whole thing with the Barge of the Dead.”

She had not talked much in the month that had passed since, about what she had dreamed about when she had nearly died in Sickbay. After nearly losing her, Tom at least had been too grateful she was alive to press her with questions. Only once had she even indirectly alluded to it, a few days later when they had held Marika Wilkarah’s funeral, following the normal Bajoran rituals as best they could, and after the ceremony had ended and they had made their way to the mess hall for a small reception, she had spoken quietly, half to him, half to herself.

“I want to be the one to seek out her family when we get home,” she’d said, because it was agreed someone would have to do that, so they would know her fate. “I was her immediate commanding officer for the last weeks of her life, after all. And I want to make sure they get her final words to them. No parents should lose their children like that, without a word or knowledge. How must she have felt, knowing they were on the other of the galaxy, and barring a miracle, she was never going to see or speak to them again while she was still alive...” That was all. When she had gone to Janeway at the reception the captain had agreed immediately.

Now it turned out she’d gone and talked to Chakotay about it, and Tom had to tell himself not to get angry she’d gone to him. And then, as if reading his mind, she said, “You have to understand Tom, when I gave it some thought, I found he was the only person in my life where I knew exactly where I stood with him.”

“What?!” Now Tom was getting angry. “And what do you think you are to me, chopped liver?”

“Lover, sure, right now,” she sighed. “But what about in a year? In two? In ten?”

Okay, now maybe this was making sense. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to propose?”

“No,” she shook her head impatiently. “Well, maybe. I wasn’t thinking along those lines. You could marry me and then divorce me five years later anyway. I just want to know what you _want_ with me.”

“For life?” he finished, half to clarify, half to get his bearings.

She nodded. “For life.”

“Okay.” He breathed in. He’d never thought about the future like this. Maybe a little when he’d been a kid and he’d looked forward to success and being happy in Starfleet, or even anywhere. But in the penal colony there hadn’t been much of a future to look forward to, even if he could hope to be freed, because he’d known not much awaited him outside besides the life of a loser. The past five years he’d been too happy counting his blessings to worry about how many more of them he was going to get, especially when that dread had haunted the back of his head, because he didn’t know for sure that he actually was going to get that pardon when they got home.

But after only a moment more of thought, he was able to say, “I want you to stick around, that much I can say immediately. For life.”

“As your lover?” She was forcing herself to press on.

“If that’s what you want to stay. Or...” He gave himself one last moment to hesitate, but no, he would’ve had to be the worst idiot in the universe to not take this if she really was willing to give it to him. He got up from his seat and then down on his knee. “B’Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral, will you marry me?”

When she just sat there, looking mildly stunned, Tom heard himself babbling, “I can’t get a ring right now, but if you’re willing to settle for a simple one I can get you one at midnight, or buy one at the next planet we stop at if you don’t want a replicated one-in fact, if you want to wait to respond until then, that’s fine. I mean I’m really just throwing the question out here, I’m happy to leave the offer standing as long as you want...”

“That won’t be necessary.” She was smiling now, and she leaned down to take his hand and craned her head in as if she was telling him a secret as she whispered, “My answer’s yes.”

That was about when it hit Tom how much he’d just changed things for himself. Not that this was a bad thing, even if it was kind of terrifying too. But after that they were kissing anyway, and when his hand touched the right part of her back he could feel her heart practically jumping, and concentrating on that kept his mind steady, even as the universe was shaking, the ship shaking...

...why was the ship shaking?

B’Elanna pulled away as they both realized something was wrong. Her combadge had fallen off. She had to dive for it, and she clutched it as the ship rocked them further; it took her several moments to successfully comm engineering. “What’s going on?” Tom heard her demand of them as an attempt to contact someone himself failed, with his badge falling off too as the ship rocked again.

The response was a little static and a lot of technobabble that only an engineer could understand, but from how B’Elanna’s face paled, it didn’t sound like good news. “I’ll be there right away,” she said just as the klaxons sounded for yellow alert, and from the floor his own combadge turned on long enough to summon him to the bridge.

Since they needed to go in opposite directions, it had long become typical practice for the two of them to split up and head for different turbolifts outside their door. Tonight, however, even under their current circumstances, they had pause a moment, and flash each other a sort of grin, that unspoken exchange of, “Are we really now? Yes we are.” Even with the ship now rocking so hard Tom could see the floor positively quiver, he couldn’t lose his general feeling of elation.

It lasted all through the turbolift ride and even when he emerged to find a tense bridge and Ayala at the conn trying to pilot with one hand while with the other he clung to the console. When he turned and saw Tom he looked relieved, and was glad to pull himself up shakily and stumble off. Tom himself nearly fell into his seat, but once he was seated he felt fairly confident, especially when his hands were at the controls and the ship was responding to them. The viewscreen was filled with flashing orange light and he tried to maneuver to avoid as it lashed around them.

Even if he had no idea what was going on, at least for a few more minutes, until Captain Janeway commanded Harry to give her a prognosis on the “phenomenon,” and he, doubtfully, replied, “All I can tell you is it’s all over the electro-magnetic spectrum, it’s growing in size at a rate of about two miles per millisecond, we’re not actually in contact with it, but we’re starting to absorb serious radiation anyway-so far the shields have taken it...”

The orange lights on the viewscreen were getting larger. Tom was fairly certain that was bad. He was beginning to get a pilot’s feel for the phenomenon and how it was interacting with the ship, and if it got much stronger in intensity he would have a lot of trouble keeping the ship under control.

Then he heard an exclamation of surprise from Harry, followed by, “It looks like we’re being hailed. Audio only.”

“By who?” the Captain demanded, voicing everyone’s confusion.

“I don’t know.” Harry sounded as confused as the rest of them. “There’s nothing that should be able to hail us for light years around.”

“Well, put it on.” The bridge was filled with a burst of static, before a tinny, vaguely feminine voice followed:

_“Hello, and welcome to our Portal. Please be advised the entry process will take between six clacks and ten loughs. Please do not attempt to move after we have taken you into lockhold.”_

It was Tuvok, in his manner, who summed it up, “They do not seem to be considering whether or not we actually wish to enter their portal.”

“Well, do we?” Even as the ship shook, Captain Janeway seemed able to contemplate the question with perfect calm. “Would it get us closer to home? Or is there too much risk of us ending up further away?”

“Depends if there are multiple destinations maybe,” commented Commander Chakotay.

“Good point,” said the Captain as the shaking started to subside, and as Tom looked at his console he nearly did a double take.

“Captain,” he said. “The ship has started moving without me.”

“You mean the ship itself is moving on engine power, instead of being moved?”

“Exactly.” The console was even flashing as if commands were being entered into it, while Tom carefully held his hands above the screen, wondering what would happen if he tried to enter anything. If she gave the order, he told himself.

But instead she said, “Let it, for now. But I want to know where we’re going the moment anyone has any idea of it.”

Several minutes passed. The shaking mostly died down, but Tom was aware of the ship moving very fast; he’d always been able to feel it even through the inertial dampeners, and now he could do so even more than usual. That was good, because the screen didn’t really show much of what was in their immediate surroundings; there was too much interference. Harry was providing more information, listing off out loud what kinds of radiation were involved and what levels they were at, though he didn’t sound like he understood his readings much either.

But then the viewscreen was filled with white light, a moment before the ship went completely still, and Harry fell silent. “Is this the portal?” Captain Janeway wondered out loud.

“I think it might be,” said Harry. “We’re being hailed audio only again.”

It was the same voice, and this time it said, _“Welcome to our Trans-Dimension Traveling System. Please remain in place and lower your shields to receive your personal negotiator to work out your itinerary and method of payment.”_

“Multiple destinations,” said a very pleased Captain Janeway.

“How are we going to pay, though?” wondered Commander Chakotay.

“Shall we lower the shields, then?” asked Tuvok, in his usual neutral tone, though Tom had no doubt he was thinking about whether or not it was a trap.

The thought of it, too, might have been why it took the captain a moment or so to respond. But such an opportunity like this they really couldn’t pass up, so she just said, “Do it.”

Tom for a moment when he heard Tuvok’s affirming response instead worried about the threat of the more natural phenomena around with the shields lowered. But things around them had gotten pretty still. They were still surrounded by electrically charged particles, but those seemed to just be floating around and filling the viewscreen with some somewhat gorgeous blue-violet light.

“How long is it going to take?” was Captain Janeway’s response when at first nothing happened. But no one had a real answer for her, and about a minute later, Harry said, “I think someone’s trying to beam into the bridge-from light years away, it seems; they’re using some kind of...” He groped for the words, and failed to find them before their visitor arrived. Tom turned around at the sound, which sounded kind of like a transporter beam but more high-pitched than any beam Tom had ever heard, and he appeared in light that was such a rich shade of gold it dazzled on a whole different level from the normal sight of the transporter doing its work.

He was baseline humanoid, grey colored, covered with thin scales and sparse hair not on top of his head, but close to his neck and around his shoulders and ankles. His hands had five fingers, but his feet, which were bare, had only four toes. He wore a sleeveless black bodysuit, and two red bracelets on his left wrist.

“Good evening, sir.” Captain Janeway offered her hand, then when their visitor didn’t seem inclined to take it smoothly took a step forward. “I assume you’re here for negotiating with us?”

“And you are the director of this establishment?” he asked in turn. He had one of the deepest, smoothest voices any of them had ever heard.

“I tend to go by the title of Captain, actually,” said Janeway, who of course could be pretty smooth herself when called for. “But yes, I am the one in charge here.”

“Then, Captain-Director, if there is a place to negotiate in private?”

To the less knowledgeable observer, there was no real pause here. But those on the bridge who knew how Captain Janeway did things noticed she made a slight one, before then saying, “My ready room is this way.”

As she led him there, his complimenting their “headquarters” as he went, Tom found himself exchanging a look with the other men on the bridge. Commander Chakotay especially looked uneasy. The guy was simply too slick for them to trust him that easily. Captain Janeway would be on her guard at least, they were sure of that. But her desperation to get them home might get in the way of her caution for her own safety, so they were all in agreement. _One real sign, my friend,_ Tom thought. _One solid reason to believe we’re not just feeling paranoid..._

The ship was still dead in space, and from the sound of the console hums, neither Harry nor Tuvok nor anyone else on the bridge was getting any readings that would indicate the situation was changing. There was nothing to do but wait.

Wait they did. Inevitably Tom's mind wandered back to the events of earlier that evening. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he and B’Elanna had just agreed to spend the rest of their lives together, that if all went well, he’d live and die by her side. Also, he found himself thinking there should probably be a plan about telling people, but under the circumstances it might have to wait until a less exciting day. He was a little worried about Commander Chakotay’s reaction.

Finally the captain and her guest emerged back onto the bridge, and from the way she was beaming, Tom could only conclude the negotiation had been a huge success. “Shipwide announcement to make, Mr. Kim,” she declared, and Harry happily tapped his console to turn on all the comms. “Attention, everyone on board. This is your captain speaking. I am happy to announce that I have just now made an agreement that will, if all goes well, see us back in Federation space within the next year.”

There was a pause while a few cheers escaped on the bridge, and made them all aware of how many were probably being let out all over the ship. Captain Janeway beamed further, before continuing, “We are currently in the portal of an interstellar transportation system that will over the next ten months take us through most of the rest of our journey. In return, we will bring them to the Federation, and they will hopefully extend their transportation services to Federation space.” That was kind of universe-changing for the Federation, Tom couldn’t help but think, though none of them would be dwelling on it too much at the moment.

When the ship started feeling shaky again, Tom initially didn’t worry. They were, after all, within a interstellar phenomenon, and one they knew practically nothing about besides that they had to get through it to get home, and if it wanted to be a bumpy ride, well, that was something surely everyone on the ship was willing to allow. He did take a look at the display on the conn that was showing their speed, current direction, and a rough estimate about how much the ship was being impeded, but the first two things he knew already and the high number on the third wasn’t exactly a surprise.

It wasn’t the display, anyway, that initially made him realize something was wrong. It was his own inner navigator and preceptor instead, the part of him that could subconsciously sense how the ship was moving even through the inertial dampeners, that made him realize the ship was slowing down involuntarily, and the slower it got, the worse the shaking got, and Tom would swear he could even feel something in the space around them starting to squeeze in.

The Captain had something of the same instincts. It was when Tom, looking at the display now also giving out the wrong numbers, was drawing breath in to speak that she leaned over him, her face placid to those who didn’t know her, took a look at the numbers, and immediately said, “Mr. Kim, give me the ship’s vitals.”

Harry had gotten really good, too, at sensing when things had gone very wrong, though he only said, “We’re getting some strange readings off the engines and the shields. The latter are down very slightly, no explanation.” One could hear growing tension in his voice.

Still none in hers, as she turned to their negotiator and asked, “Would you say that’s normal at this stage in going through your portal?”

He remained even more neutral as he replied, “It is difficult to determine the answer to such questions…”

Which was when she grabbed her phaser and pointed it at him. “That doesn’t match what you told me just now. You said that everything about your transportation process was long standardized and tested and nothing ever went wrong.”

“Well,” he looked embarrassed, which was a very strange look on him. “That is the official line, but it might not be…entirely accurate.”

Janeway might have actually been expecting something a bit more sinister, from the way she just sighed, and started, “Keep monitoring the…”

“Captain!” Harry sounded alarmed, and Tom felt the same when the ship was too strained under him, and he knew he’d lost helm control without even looking. “The engine’s suddenly powering itself like we’re at warp; it’s going too fast when we’re not warping; I’m not sure how the ship’s going to hold up.”

“Look,” Janeway said to their guest, “maybe if we could drop out of it for a moment-”

“Oh no,” he said, and maybe it was Tom’s head playing tricks on him, but he suddenly sounded ominous and dangerous. “You are now within the system. We will have you, Captain Janeway, until you’re out-if you all live that long….”


End file.
